


A Midnight Tryst

by Fa-Nuit-Hen (cliffracerx)



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Chimer, M/M, NSFW, Nerevoryn, Not Canon Compliant, Resdayn, first era, i'm putting this back up. so please don't leave stupid or gross comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliffracerx/pseuds/Fa-Nuit-Hen
Summary: A concerned Voryn pursues what he believes to be a spirit haunting Mournhold's streets, finding a bit more than he bargained for...





	A Midnight Tryst

Evening draped its cloak of sweet, silent solace over the emerald-paved streets of Mournhold, and one by one, darkness came home to roost in each window. The barest suggestions of soft candlelight guttering out as mer traded the facade of the day’s clarity for the vague and misty realms of their dreams.

However, there remained bone who burned his oil; his presence attested to by the guttering intensity of candlelight gracing a third-floor window. Voryn was seated at his desk, practicing calligraphy with sure brushstrokes, his quick, nimble fingers decorating an otherwise dull and uncompelling surface with impeccable calligraphy. He paused to think of his next words; of the ink he’d use to convey them while gazing out the window toward the darkened streets, where he glimpsed the fleeting visage of a certain white-haired figure wandering away from the door, moving like a ghost in the light of the night-lamps and the moons.

Delicately balancing his brush against the rim of a scarab-emblazoned bowl, Voryn followed that lunar form with his eyes before reaching a swift decision, burning with curiosity due to this night-visit, which seemed like some wayward spirit's haunt. He departed his chambers in pursuit of the odd spectre, clad in only his evening-clothes; longer-cut and wide-legged red pants and the beetle-rubied golden torque to which his sun-like collar was affixed paired with a black, wide-sleeved outer robe with an open front littered with delicately-embroidered creatures from Resdayn’s various flora and fauna. Voryn passively shrugged into the outside robe on his way down the stairs whilst pulling his unbound, wavy coif free, eventually pushing the door open and stepping outside, where caught yet another fleeting glimpse of spidersilk-white as it disappeared behind a building.

Voryn’s curiosity grew ever more, prompting him to start after the curiously elusive eidolon.

In a curious, trance-like state in which he knew neither the waking world nor that of his dreams, Nerevar continued to drift silently out of the gates. Each step he took was the fleeting beat of a luna moth's wings; curiously graceful and swift. Moving ever-southward along the waterways until he reached a spot where the water appeared pure and clear, night’s blackness obscured the surface of the water almost entirely save for the red-white gleams of Masser and Secunda loitering in the night sky above.

By the time that Voryn had him in full view, Nerevar’s robes had been placed in an uncannily neat, folded pile some ways from the riverbed. Bare skin left unconcealed by the scarf artfully poised around his extremities gleams with sunsweet tones bathed in the cool moonlight, each honed edge of his body yielding suggestions that they've reached the zenith of their virile allure. Scarf and hair fanned out together, caught in a sudden breeze as Nerevar stepped onto the surface of the water.

A low-hanging silver chain dangling around his neck hosted a variety of things: a ring with an air of stately officiality about it, bearing the winged crest of Indoril, likely used for stamping documents; a charm that gleams insidiously with a strong water-walking enchantment in unison with a firecurse against enemies (which Nerevar carried for emergencies--and because walking on water, he thought, was just plain cool), adjacent to another ring made out of gold, moonstone and a few other precious materials featuring a thin, sharp-edged crescent moon sitting peacefully next to a jagged Azuran star: One Clan Under Moon and Star. Each of these items offered a pleasant, musical jingle as they beat against his chest with his movements as they taper from stately warm-up exercises to more intricate swordplay, including techniques lost and discarded.

As he looked on, Voryn began to get the distinct impression (by the time he'd finally properly caught up to the ethereal mer) that he wasn't meant to see this, no matter how much it began to feel like a chase purposed at teasing at his curiosity. The air of mystery was far too bold to ignore (and to resist) while he pursued a creature that he did not know to be entirely flesh and blood. He found himself entranced by the sight as the swordsmer walked onto the mirror-like surface of the water and began moving, the moons' light making sharply sculpted muscles shine, making it seem as if his skin were dusted with powdered gold with a dusting of moonstone.

Voryn felt his cheeks heat with a blush, burning eyes growing a bit wider as his lips parted in awe; entranced by the object of his focus--of his desire--as the movements escalated. Though something about it felt familiar, it was seldom this indecent.

It was also entirely new, yet more traditional, leaving questions to bubble up at the back of Voryn’s mind (and he was not so far above and detached from mortality then that he would deny that he guiltily enjoyed watching the Hortator’s sword-dance with a grace he would expect from one with a smaller build, admiring both the full control Nerevar has over his body and how that ample, bare body flexes and twists, surrounded and veiled by scarf and wisps of snowy silk. Thus, Voryn opted to remain quiet for now, watching from a safe distance.)

Eventually, Nerevar’s scarf went shooting off in the direction of the rest of Nerevar’s clothes, landing not too far from the pile. Placing the sword on the riverbank, the pale-haired mer appeared to disappear beneath the water's surface with an abrupt splash, and all became eerily silent until one gleaming arm could be seen waving above the surface, perhaps indicative of a struggle. There had even been a few splashing sounds before the rest, too. However, then came a small, teasing hint of white hair against the darkness of the water and the reflection of the moons upon its surface before disappearing yet again.

The unnerving fashion in which ghostlike mer was swallowed by the )river gave Voryn cause to move closer, as it was his intent to better discern what was transpiring, though he doesn't move into the water (for he had little to no affinity for the stuff, least of all for swimming.

A few moments passed, weighing upon Voryn’s patience as a boulder shaped like eternity. Though he did his utmost to subdue them, the claws of panic began to close in on him until Nerevar suddenly reappeared, floating on his back, now fully visible, leaving everything more or less on display. He'd been floating in the water (much like the sacred indigo water lotuses that known to haunt Mournhold’s waterways) with a peaceful expression, as though the water somehow made for a comfortable bed--that is, until Voryn drew too close.

Nerevar let out a panicked chirp, abruptly ducking behind the reeds to hide his indecency. He'd lost track of what happened, recalling that he'd been lying comfortably amid a nest of pillows one moment, and the next, bathing in the river clad in just his skin with Voryn there, gawking at him.

"W-what? V-Voryn?" a pink-cheeked Nerevar called out incredulously, uncertainty manifold in his tone.

Luminous eyes shifted back and forth from fear to that piercing stare of desire, though it was now laced with a hint of wariness. "Why do you stalk me? You rejected me earlier, you know," he remarked curtly, making sure to don his cool, aloof Indoril exterior as he pieces together an explanation for who he is and why he's here in case the other were to ask.

Rejected? Voryn scoffed internally. He’d simply been preoccupied! Nerevar, it seemed, had a habit of getting all the wrong ideas.

Voryn was relieved that what he'd thought a sudden fall and perhaps a stunning injury had merely been Nerevar taking a dip in the river at an odd hour. It would have been good to know before having a very good eyeful of his Hortator’s nudity in such a setting, or startling Nerevar and being surprised in turn by his quick reaction. Voryn stared resolutely at Nerevar’s face, as if he were embarrassed to eye him inappropriately again, successful in avoiding a blush until Nerevar accused of what he’d very nearly done.

"...My lord, you were creeping about the streets, darting furtively about Mournhold like a ne'er-do-well'er. I...thought perhaps you were a haunting spirit, after your strange behaviour." The rather embarrassing confession that he'd briefly mistaken Nerevar for something otherworldly gives way to amusement at Nerevar’s curt remark. Voryn folded his arms while donning his usual polite facade (though now it seemed a bit contrived), subtly challenging Nerevar’s assessment. "Hmmph. I scarcely had time to smile after noticing your gaze, before you fled as if I'd conjured my House-scarabs."

"Darting about the streets, hmm?" Nerevar laughed, brushing past Voryn and revealing himself, as an unspoken challenge of his own in turn--a challenge to a challenge, as it were. (Or perhaps he wasn’t not as bashful as he’d initially let on.) Voryn arguing with him and subtly levying challenges to his authority excited him, invigorated him, even physically, though he was careful not to let on.

“Has it ever occurred to you that a mer likes to go out for a brisk walk every so often?" Nerevar tilted his head, donning a seemingly innocent expression, though his eyes were lambent and now near-white as he sharpened his gaze, more than slightly offended by Voryn comparing him to a criminal. Furthermore, he drilled into Voryn with that legendary, smouldering stare of his all over again. “I'd been standing there in the Council chambers for quite some time without so much as a gesture! I am accustomed to that as a sign of rejection and what's more, I do not question it--rather, I would not have, were it that you hadn't followed me like a child after a sweets merchant." Nerevar gently took his observer's hand, confirming that he was indeed tangible with an amused smirk. “Well, my good Lord High Councilor! Do you still suppose that I am a ghost? Or a criminal...?”

As Nerevar brushed against him like a cat seeking to be petted, Voryn shifted, turning to continue facing Nerevar, clearly captivated and swept in his intangible wake, unable to resist a covert, sweeping gaze at Nerevar’s backside. Howbeit, he kept his focus on the Nerevar’s words as much as possible--most especially when his logic was challenged--and if Nerevar had previously believed that Voryn was a mer who relented easily, then he’d soon find otherwise. "Perhaps, but you must concede that a mer who ducks, weaves and otherwise behaves like to shake off pursuers arouse suspicion. It is far better to walk openly and bold than to move in shadows and stealth."

Nerevar’s gaze is even more striking when it's rendered in moonsilver, and Voryn fancied that he could stay caught in it for years, just basking in the attention. He made a minute conceding bow forward, inclining his head slightly at the other's truthful accusation, the charms of the Good Three threaded into the golden hoops hanging from his ears hiss and click quietly as the motion jostled them about. "Something about the sight bothered me, in a way I can't find the words to describe. As for gestures, for as heavy as your gaze is, my lord, it is not the first action. You are the challenger here."

A frisson raced through Voryn's body. “I've never seen a criminal with your grace or physique.” His lips curved upward, and he grips the hand more firmly, careful of his sharp talon-like nails, pulling on the other mer with an accomplished martial artist's strength left unsuspected by his lithe figure, raising his other hand to Nerevar’s, he pulling him closer, daringly. “But I remain unconvinced that you are indeed a living, tangible mer and not some fey spirit donning the form of my lord for your own amusement. I'll need further proof than a simple hand in mine, I believe."

"I will concede that much," Nerevar admitted gruffly. "Judge me wrongly if you will, Voryn! But in my defense, I say to you that any evasive movements on my part this evening are purely to avoid excess attention. Phuff! You've no idea how many stares I get! I confess that I feel like an interesting creature in a menagerie, at times. And not all business done by stealth is done with an ill purpose, my friend."

Warmth crept into Nerevar’s lower body; that strange, infectious tingling sensation tormenting him with its heated cruelty as Voryn continues to argue with him. "And at any rate, I don't suppose that it's any of your damned business," he sniffed, sounding a great deal more like an offended version of one of Almalexia’s stuffy old kinsmer than he would've liked. "I do not follow. If I truly bother you so, then perhaps you'd make it a point to avoid me...and I simply looked at you. Hardly a challenge...."

Nerevar trailed off, his mouth slightly agape as he's pulled closer.

"Proof?” he murred. “But you are already touching me, Voryn. What more proof do you need...?"

"Then congratulations on drawing far more attention by these attempts to avoid it,” Voryn quipped dryly. “And to correct you, it is within my reach to deter crime." His tone grew momentarily waspish, inviting tension that Voryn seemed to dismiss by momentarily closing his eyes giving a dismissive shrug.

"You were scolding me for rejecting you. Well, thank you for proving my point with your own words: You simply looked; hardly a challenge...and hardly anything that would warrant rejection. I merely looked back and smiled, unless my smile somehow offends." Voryn argued with a closed stance, watching Nerevar completely miss the invitation, pulling the corners of his mouth into a smirk. "I've read once that a spirit lacks in substance and fire. Perhaps a kiss might prove you only a mer..."

"You can't deter me if I'm not a criminal, so, therefore, it is none of your business," Nerevar quipped hotly, hurt clear in his eyes. But the other had a point, and though his eyes gleamed with offense, he spoke no more of it. Leaning in, he whispered against Voryn's lips, "Say, say! If I were a ghost, then you would kiss me and look upon me with that kind of desire without even knowing my name...?"

Unfortunately, Voryn didn’t have the chance to answer that why yes, he would, after seeing what he did when the other was practicing on the lake.

For Nerevar, Voryn being so forward with him was delightfully unfamiliar. Voryn, it seemed, had long ago grown accustomed to the other armoring himself with all the reserve in the world--but the dead of night, as Nerevar knew well, could often provide different circumstances.

Naturally, he didn’t let Voryn answer these questions, stooping in to capture those full lips with his own, slipping his tongue into Voryn’s mouth and sucking at his lips, realizing just how badly he'd been missing Voryn for these past few weeks. Nerevar’s body ached with mountainous need that he could barely contain. It had been so long since he'd tasted his lover’s lips that he could scarcely believe what was happening. Barely able to pull back and break the kiss, he briefly left leaving a thin, residual trail of saliva between both of their lips before attempting to behave if he weren’t as interested as he truly was, though his skin had already warmed considerably with his efforts to suppress a soft moan. Neither were strangers to the act of the languorous wine of attraction from another's lips, but between them, both felt that it had never flowed with such power and freedom.

"Just a mer, eh?" Nerevar breathed huskily, tilting his head a bit with a small, impish smile.

For Voryn’s part, being the taller of the two required always a bit of maneuvering and adapting, but the kiss was an all-sweeping, a rush of heat and sweet, long-awaited victory, as if he'd been waiting ever since first meeting and Nerevar’s intense gaze. He matched the Nerevar’s desire with his own with tongue meeting tongue, each point of contact and action making him want more and more. Normally, he would've been far more cautious, but he wanted Nerevar-- the sort of want that gave Voryn cause to throw reason to the winds. Presented with the opportunity, he hurled himself headlong into this potential.

When Nerevar broke the kiss, he seemed somewhat unaffected. Voryn was quite flushed meanwhile, his warm-toned skin growing warmer still; the pace of his breathing made much faster by thrill and want.

Voryn’s agreement came somewhat breathlessly. "Indeed. Just a mer. A handsome one, with more than enough passion to convince me..." He ran the fingers of his hand on the other mer's shoulder, stroking fingertips and feathering the edges of his sharp, well-maintained nails on that mirror-gleaming skin. "Would you tell me your name then, spirit, or prefer to kiss me again?" He inquired with mock-curiosity as he advanced, closing the distance between their bodies further, making no secret of his passions.

"I would tell you my name, but I believe you might already know it, for your heart and mine are very old friends," Nerevar replied softly. "Are you even going to let me get dressed...?" He blushed again, feigning shyness; looking away coyly as he teased, the same way Voryn often teased him. Nerevar gripped Voryn's hand gently, and it's clear he's pleased with what's going on despite the darkness obscuring his arousal.

In Voryn’s mind, those words rang true. Voryn's features fell into a troubled frown until Nerevar spoke again, distracting him, making the worry slides off like water from waxed chitin. He curled fingers further against the other's hand in response to the teasing. "I would prefer to disrobe, if it's equal grounds you seek, my love. My heart bids me to grasp this opportunity." He lowered his voice, and a smile full of want and invitation forming on Voryn's lips before he closed the distance to initiate a second kiss, claiming his turn to explore and taste the other's mouth with all-consuming ardor.

A soft chuckle issued from Nerevar’s throat. "O, so you mean to ravish me on the grass, here?" He breathed between kisses, nibbling Voryn's lower lip; eyes scintillating with vivid and obvious amusement.

"I think not."

Nerevar slipped from Voryn's grasp with a smirk, flexing his leg muscles and glutes without even the tiniest drop of subtlety as he made his way back to where his clothes lay. The sound of swooping was heard of a large piece of fabric fanned out in the breeze. Nerevar lay his scarf on the ground, and then himself upon it, pulling his legs together teasingly to conceal his interest, arching his back in an effort to make himself look as inviting as possible while gliding his hands over his upper thighs. Full lips parted, emitting small, heated breaths in anticipation as Nerevar’s eyes darken, fixing Voryn with a magnetic stare.

This time, there came no attempt from Voryn to obfusicate his gaze--which was made a near-tangible thing in its longing and intensity, and in that moment, his being became unhidden by the troubles of tomorrow or the concerns of yesterday. When Nerevar lay before him, Voryn moved as if on cue, kneeling at his lover’s feet, his labored breaths a primal poem and testament to their chemistry.

"If you were made of stone, my lord, you would be art and worshipped. I'm beginning to doubt that you are a mer once again. No mortal could be so enticing." He slid his robe off, and because he was a creature of habit by default, Voryn couldn’t help folding it properly before lying it on the grass out of the way, offering an apology to Nerevar’s obvious impatience in the form of gently touching Nerevar’s legs. His hands soon moved to Nerevar’s upper thighs, their presence purposed to both tease and reassure for a moment before they moved to untie the embroidered belt preventing Voryn’s pants from riding dangerously low on his angular hips. He glanced out languidly from underneath dark, feathery lashes as he lowered the fabric and untied the plain loincloth beneath, exposing his arousal to the wild night air.

Finally, he loomed on hands and knees over Nerevar's form, steadying himself to touch the snow-haired mer's gleaming cheek, tracing his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb before leaning down to kiss him again, licking into Nerevar’s mouth with a groan.

"Given what we're about to do, I do not think there is any need for you dispense formalities at present. Just my name will do, and you know it well enough." Nerevar tilted his head, legs splaying automatically at the other's display of eagerness (and it had been long since Voryn has approached him with such keenness)--perhaps too long. A delighted shudder wracked the warrior's figure as Voryn presented himself, with Nerevar glancing quite obviously between the other mer's groin and then his face.

Ecstatic cries were soon muffled by kisses, save for the undulations in Nerevar’s mouth along in unison with his tongue making heated, erratic parabolas around Voryn’s, sucking and nibbling greedily on Voryn's lips. Nerevar’s hips began to vibrate, offering minute, impatient thrusts. A flash of subdued panic and uncertainty slips briefly across silver eyes. What if he wasn't doing something that wasn’t to Voryn's liking? After all, he thought worriedly, Voryn wasn’t moving as quickly as usual. Finding no sign of disinterest in his partner's face to prove this sudden and intrusive bout of concern, Nerevar desperately shoved this thought back down in the midst of the moment, focusing on losing himself in the oncoming volatile, lustful explosion and the maddening heat simmering between their bodies.

There came a flash of startled amusement in Voryn's eyes, a grain of fond recognition toward the banter to which he is accustomed. Voryn offered a fond look at Nerevar's usual protest over titles. He settled into leading their activities, taking the role that Nerevar gave him in this as naturally as anything. Taking advantage of Nerevar's brief panic (deliberately or coincidentally), Voryn lowered himself against Nerevar bit more, sliding their loins together. A deep and rich sound escapes him, full of relief and pleasure at the mere contact. Something inside him was jubilant that this was happening at all, and if ever Nerevar chose to challenge Voryn's assumptions, he'd be just as happy surrendering himself as he is now to run a hand over the Hortator's thigh, shifting inward, and to coax Nerevar's legs apart. He murmured the name at the edge of his mind against Nerevar's lips, barely pulling back from the kiss at all. "Yes, Nerevar..."

A rugged groan of pleasure escaped Nerevar. Finally, Voryn had called him by his name without titles; and this time, there had been no incongruously poetic declarations of endearment or anything of the sort, and it was every bit as thrilling as he'd hoped! His legs plied apart easily.

Nerevar looked up at Voryn, eyes having grown large, desperate and pleading. "Just take me," he growled--much to Voryn's surprise--"And stop teasing!" (Unfortunately, Nerevar sounded far more authoritarian there than he’d intended, but it was far too late to revise that response now. His skin had grown so warm that he fancied that Voryn had set him alight; blazing happily beneath his partner like a mer-shaped bonfire.

Keen, Voryn wasted little time when Nerevar's impatience bled over into instruction, making a low hum of amusement and answering him with another kiss with such depth that it seemed as if he might devour Nerevar with the sheer intensity of it before entering him in one thrust. A groan of bliss escaped Voryn as he hilted himself fully into Nerevar's body. This intimacy fulfilled weeks of longing, spurring him into movement, wanting to forth draw as many sounds and as much pleasure forth from the font that was Nerevar, his pace making a good attempt at being more steady rather than frantic, knowing that there's only so many hours in an evening. Voryn was loath to let it end so quickly. He murmured again, unable to help himself, "...my star, how bright you've made tonight for me..."

Nerevar's cheeks reddened again--this time with embarrassment. Evidently, he'd neglected to inform Voryn of just how much he hated it when Voryn went on weird poetic tangents during sex--that, coupled with (ab)use of formalities, but it was far too late for that now. He poured himself into the moment, giving every little sound Voryn milked from him; choruses of sighs and symphony of moans and shrieks came pouring out of him, unchecked, longing for his soul's mate; his mirror twin, his lover-and-soon-to-be-adversary--but the savage lunacy of the Sharmat does not exist here, not yet; and so Nerevar must take advantage of this moment before the horrors yet to transpire set in. Each moment was measured and weighed in passive, blissful sighs and a tumultuous cacophony of lust. Nerevar rose his hands to caress Voryn's face tenderly. "Voryn, my love," he cried out. Indescribable was the relief that fills him to call out the other's name once again as his lover.

Voryn quickly lost himself in his lover's reactions. His motions escalated as he gazed down at Nerevar, burning eyes brimming with adoration. Many words left unsaid flood Voryn's solar eyes with a powerful, all-consuming love; something easily made dangerous, though currently still within the last throes of freedom from the bitter corruption of divine power. The dark-haired mer disregarded his nearing climax and the increasing ache of need to prolong his time with Nerevar, but his control soon unraveled as he was addressed with that tender endearment. In a flash of heat and need that was almost blinding for its impact. Voryn managed to both melt while his pace became frantic and desperate; a dazed and happy smile in his eyes. He spoke, stroking a side of Nerevar’s face in return, happily reciprocating any affection lavished upon him.

Each of Voryn's words seemed punctuated by thrusts. "I love you, Nerevar, I love you, I…!"

Drawing his hand away from Nerevar’s face rather than risk clawing at him overmuch, Voryn's talons tore thoughtlessly into the ground. His movements fluctuated--stuttering slightly, then lapsing into deep, powerful jerks until he surged forward one last time, body tensing and shivering as he spent himself into Nerevar's, letting loose the name of the one beneath in one final, heated cry.

Nerevar threw his arms around Voryn, holding him close with a gentle squeeze. He wished sorely that both of them would've lasted longer as he climaxed, though he was well-pleased to see his lover pleased. Argent locks fell away from his forehead, baring the sub-dermal moon and star sigil branded in the same spot upon his soul. His fingers ran freely through Voryn's thick, oceanic tresses as they've ached to do for so long. Even here, even now, Voryn seemed to be one of the only things that fulfilled him. He was one of perhaps two songs--a song, to redeem an empty life yet to come, in which nothing seemed to be enough--and now, not even the whole of Resdayn for a conqueror who is never satisfied; an empty desert. Yet with Voryn between his thighs, warm and satisfied, Nerevar finally began to feel as if the vessel were, (if not at least a semblance thereof), half-full.

**Author's Note:**

> -hi. this ficlet is actually a bit based on an rp between a friend and myself, so I cannot take credit for parts of Voryn's dialogue and behavior here.  
-@Ascended_Sleepers begged me to post this on here so yeah. I'm very awkward when it comes to writing smut and I'm more than a little nervous abt posting this ;w ;  
-"your heart and mine are very old friends" is actually an Ancient Egyptian proverb favored by yours truly :D


End file.
